If you ever need help

Sherry was taken aback by the mild threat, and for a minute, she wondered if Dallion was joking about gouging the man’s eyes out. When she turned to look at the man, Rivers seemed to have stopped staring at her and had instead gone to fetch himself a drink.

Dallion walked to one of the empty couches, where no one sat, leaning his back completely as he crossed his legs, eyes locking on the woman who was standing in the room with a young girl sitting down on her knees.

"I see your little mouse has been taking good care of you," he chimed in, glancing at the boy who hadn’t raised his eyes to anyone but his mistress' legs, massaging her ankles now.

"Luke is a lovely boy, isn’t he?" the woman smiled, looking down at her captive, whom she had personally acquired from a hidden auction, unlike Dallion, who had snatched Sherryl from the black market. "Your little mouse hasn’t learned the code of conduct for captives," the woman remarked, her red eyes sizing Sherry up. Sherry hadn’t dropped her gaze in obedience until now. Realizing her error, she smartly lowered her eyes to the ground, standing next to Dallion.

"If you ever need help, you know teaching her all about the stuff and how to act around her boss, you can always send her to me," The woman's tone hinted at more than her words. Her gaze shifted from Sherry to her own captive, who sat dutifully at her feet. She raised her bare foot, the tip of her toe running from the boy’s chest up to his neck, where it paused to hold his throat in place.

"As much as you are good at it, I wouldn’t mind helping either, Dallion," said the woman standing in front of the fidgety Sherry while smirking. "Give me a week, and I’ll fix her right up."

"She’ll learn soon. She’s new to this game. And what’s the point of having complete obedience if I can’t punish her as I see fit?" Dallion grinned, his lips curling in satisfaction. The woman tipped her chin knowingly. "What’s gotten this one into trouble?" Dallion asked, curious, his eyes on the young girl kneeling on the ground.

"She forgot who’s in charge," chuckled the other woman, running her hand across the rough leather whip she held. Her face smiled, but her eyes held cruelty. "I don’t know how you thought it was okay to serve me green tea when I clearly said black," the woman snapped at the kneeling girl angrily. "Did you go deaf?"

The young girl trembled visibly, her body crouched to the point where her forehead almost touched the cold marble floor. As she raised the whip, Sherry, looked at her wide-eyed, she couldn’t comprehend what was about to happen. The whip cut through the air with a sharp sound, landing on the girl’s back side with brutal force.

Sherry’s heart raced at the sight and sound of the impact. She could almost feel the sting of the leather against her own skin. The captive on the ground didn’t utter a sound, swallowing her cries, knowing very well that any outburst would only lead to worse punishment. Sherry, on the other hand, stood frozen, her mouth agape at the scene. She glanced at Dallion, whose passive expression didn’t falter as if none of this concerned him. The girl was not his problem.

Sherry instinctively shifted her weight, but Dallion’s eyes snapped to her, vacant yet warning her to stay still. She remembered the warning she had just received a few minutes in the car before they came inside this ridiculous place, she started wondering what Dallion was really thinking when he decided to bring her here, was he in some way trying to insight another fear in her of what would likely happen to her if she disobeyed him again?

"This is a warning for you not to do anything foolish when we get there." She recalled the sting of his sharp nail cutting through her wound, reminding her of when she had stepped on that nail. Her feet trembled at the memory.

"Go, get me a glass of water from the kitchen," Dallion ordered, snapping her back to the present. The sight of the whipping had been enough to ground her in reality. Without hesitation, she bowed her head and turned, walking quickly out of the room.

She couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed. For a simple mistake—tea—the woman had whipped the girl. How could anyone do that? Was this what Dallion had meant when he said he was so lenient to her compared to others? He had warned her that some masters who bought captives were much worse, and now she Even Raphael had told her back then at Lyons place.

Inside the room, Dallion watched as Sherry left before his gaze returned to the captive on the ground, enduring three more strikes of the whip. Finally, he noticed the faint sobs stifled behind the girl’s trembling lips.

"That should be enough," Dallion said calmly. Though the woman with the whip wanted to continue, she stopped, knowing better than to argue with him. This was Dallion Cross.

"But Dallion, I haven’t—"

"Did you know green tea is much better than black?" he interrupted coolly, eyeing the girl on the floor and then the woman with the whip. "She must have enough to deal with, running around for you."

The woman frowned bitterly, but she didn’t push further. After all, no one argued with Dallion Cross.

When Sherry returned with the glass of water, the captive girl had been removed from the room, though the others remained. She approached Dallion quickly, offering the glass with a slight bow. He took a sip, then placed the half-empty glass carelessly on the armrest, not seeming to care if it fell.

“Sit down, Sherry,” he said. She obeyed, sitting next to him, her mind still reeling from the brutal scene she had just witnessed. The cold-heartedness of the people in this room, their utter lack of empathy, was overwhelming.

Sherry, who had never seen such harsh punishment up close, felt a sickening sense of dread. She had heard the cries and screams from the black market where captives were held, but witnessing it firsthand was different. The visuals were too much to bear. Having been reduced to a mere captive herself, she wondered if there was any hope of escaping this life, of ever returning to something resembling normalcy. The longer she remained in this world, the more she saw how it twisted and broke people, leaving them reliant on the mercy—or cruelty—of their captors.

This was the dark side of the Cross empire, and Sherry was now caught in its suffocating grip